


Insolence

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Loki - Fandom, Thor - All Media Types, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OC is a gutsy Midgardian woman who won’t take any of Loki’s BS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insolence

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never seen the Avengers, or know about this world of Asgard other than through reading others fics, so please go easy on me - I know there’ll be some inaccuracies but I hope it doesn’t spoil the overall piece… eeek.

"Do it yourself."

"I _beg_ your pardon?!” he practically spat out at me, nostrils flaring.

"Come on, you’re a full grown man, if you can’t go fetch yourself a towel then what does that say about you?" I arched an eyebrow and stared him down.

_________

I don’t know how I found myself in this predicament.

A few years ago my widowed Midgardian father married a woman from Asgard, and we had set up home there. Dad is a great businessman, regarded by some of the bigwigs of Asgard society, and frequently a consultant to Odin on economic matters. I’m really proud of him, and in many respects our lives have been positively transformed from our more normal life back on Midgard.

Back then, I was 17, and whilst my father gave me the choice to stay in Midgard with other relatives, I figured heck why not come to Asgard. It seemed magical.

I worked as a nanny and private tutor for a while. The children on Asgard are very eager learners, devouring books rapidly, and it’s very easy to teach them.

But I got bored after a while, and whilst sniffing around for something else to do, Dad invited me to a private event at the Royal palace that Odin was throwing for people who had successful contributed to Asgard’s wealth that year. He thought it might be an interesting networking experience.

I couldn’t say no. It’s rare to be able to visit the palace as a guest. For the most part, if you’re in the palace you’re serving in some way.

The event was a total bore, though it helped me realise that business was not for me. Clearly I hadn’t inherited my father’s capacity for that.

The only thing that’s worth mentioning was at the end of night, when I met ‘Prince’ Loki, who had been sitting at the end of the long banquet table with his other royal relatives, yawning all night. His clear contempt for the whole evening was hilarious, and I wondered if he was a kindred spirit.

We literally walked into each-other near the great hall’s exit. I bowed my head briefly and apologised, before glancing up at him. He smiled tightly and nodded, before flouncing past me, the arrogant sod.

It kind of riled me. Back on Midgard, men of rank tend to say ‘after you’ to a woman, and let you through before them. But he’d just brushed past me like a diva.

I then realised that his general look of disdain throughout the evening wasn’t that of a bored kindred spirit, but that of someone who just thinks they’re better than anyone else.

I asked Dad about Loki later that night, but he said he couldn’t comment. He knew very little about him, other than he was Odin’s wayward son.

Anyway. About a week later I heard through the grapevine that there was a job going at the palace stables. The money was pretty good, and it would be a fresh challenge for me - bye bye kids, hello horses.

I got the job, and only found out after signing the contract that I would be working specifically with Loki’s horses.

Great.

By and large I rarely saw him. I kept the horses in good condition and looked after their stables well, and when things were quiet I would chat with the other stable-hands.

Most of them were terrified of the royal family. They told me all kinds of stories, many of which were probably untrue, I thought, and they gave me a fair few warnings about Loki.

"Don’t ever ride his horses, even in secret. If he finds out he will murder you."

"The guy who had the job before you came was sacked because Loki found a tangle in one of his horses tails."

"He never says please or thank you, and he’ll never tell you if he thinks you’ve done a good job. He’s hard to work for."

I groaned. This just sounds like some shitty bosses I’ve had before on Midgard. I once interned at a newspaper where my supervisor went mental if you ever made a small mistake, like using a colon instead of a semi-colon.

I could handle it. People like that just crank up my sass.

Things seemed to be going good.

Then Loki turned up.

He wanted to take one of his horses out for a spin, just for fun. The message was relayed to me by a messenger who arrived 10 minutes before Loki did, so I had time to quickly get the horse saddled up. I saw Loki as I led the horse out of its stable.

A look of recognition flashed across his eyes, then confusion. He shook his head slightly, and silently walked up to me and the horse.

His green eyes roved over the creature, making sure all was in order, then he silently mounted.

I handed the reigns up to him, and he just looked down at me, before clicking with his tongue and riding off.

Rude.

Two hours later he returned. He wordlessly motioned to me to come over, which was just charming, and hold the horse still while he dismounted. Once on the ground, he gave the horse a decent pat on the neck and murmured something to it, before striding off.

It was if I was invisible.

"Thank you, too," I murmured sarcastically to myself, as I began to lead the horse back to its stable.

"What did you say?" I low voice asked behind me.

I swallowed. Hmm. He’s a Prince. He’s my employer. Do I apologise and cower, or say what I really wanna say?

"It wouldn’t hurt to say thanks," I turn around, eying him warily. Good grief he’s tall. Those boots and that cape don’t help, either. Some would say he’s intimidating.

I would say he’s irritating.

He laughs and cocks his head to one side. “You do know who I am, do you not, servant?”

Oh! Oh no, he did _not_ just call me that.

"I believe so, Sir," I reply politely, "although my job title is stable-hand, not servant."

He sucks in air, and his eyes rove up and down my body. Perv.

"A feisty one, we have here." He takes a step closer, and instinctively I step back, the horse moving with me.

"You should know that I can fire you at will, and disgrace you so that you are unable to find employment anywhere else in the Palace." He pauses. "In fact, the whole of Asgard."

Hm. I hadn’t thought of that.

Oh well.

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know." I reply, and turn to attend to the horse, which is shuffling next to me.

I keep my back to Loki, and felt a frisson of cold near the back of my neck. I continue undoing the tack and buckles on the horse, and when I am finished, find that the Prince has gone.

Phew. I think I got away with it that time.

______________________

Loki returned a few days later. When he saw me, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders squared, as if readying for a fight.

Now I’m feisty, and daresay it I could probably put up a good scrappy fight if need be with some people (other girls, willowy men perhaps). But this towering God? I’ve heard about his magic. He’d probably just turn me into a rock. No chance.

"You there," he points at me as he walks across the stable yard towards me and his saddled horse.

I stand stock still, watching him, then the sass-monster comes out.

"What?" I challenge, sounding like a stroppy teenager.

He strides up close to me, standing inches in front of me, which I’ll admit is kind of intimidating.

But I am not a fan of bullies, and having dealt with them myself before at high school, I am not one to suffer them.

I put one hand up, almost touching his chest, look him dead in the eye, and say “Just back away from me.”

His mouth slams shut and I see his hands ball into fists, but he does as I say and steps back.

He turns his focus to the horse, and erupts.

"What is this?!!" He strides over to the horses mane, which has a stray piece of straw in it that I hadn’t noticed. Oops.

He just stands there, glaring at me, waiting for an answer.

"It’s straw. It won’t affect the horse’s riding, Sir." That’s honest, isn’t it?

He opens his mouth to speak, then narrows his eyes at me, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

"Do not jest with me, servant. Remove it. Instantly."

I walk around to his side of the horse to get the straw.

As I reach up to pull it out, Loki warns me darkly, “I do not want to hear one word out of you ever again. Is that understood?”

I quickly grab the straw and move away, going to the horse’s head to hold it still as Loki mounts.

As Loki gets up, he keeps staring at me, that horrible look of disdain on his face. I stare back, contemplating keeping quiet. His look and demenour challenges me to retort. I can’t help but rebel.

He gives the horse a sharp kick in the flanks and begins to canter away.

"You can’t always get what you want." I call after him, then run, giggling to myself, into the stable to hide.

__________________

I had that bloody Rolling Stones song in my head.

Loki returned. I kind of hovered inside the stable as long as I could before going out into the yard. I was nervous and excited. I wanted to know how he’d react to me. I knew I was probably playing with fire and likely to find myself jobless, but I couldn’t help it. Something about him got my goat.

The horse trotted to a stop, and Loki dismounted without any help, leading the horse to me at the stable door by its reigns.

Well there’s a turn up for the books.

He thrust the reigns into my hands and then stayed still, in front of me, his gloved hands clasped behind his back.

"Thank you," I said. I meant it. I wasn’t expecting that.

"For what?" he said drily, his eyebrows lowering. "Your contract is now terminated. I trust you can see yourself out."

He stalked away, calling to his aide, and I sorted out the horse.

It wasn’t a surprise, and yet I did feel like I’d been sucker-punched in the gut.

_________________________

I didn’t tell Dad the _real_ reason why I’d lost my job, and kind of blamed it all on Loki for being an unreasonable employer. Dad tutted and sighed, but in his admirable way, then said “onwards and upwards. Onto better things, my girl.”

Trouble was, Loki had followed through with his threat to keep me out of Palace employment. Anyone I spoke to about work was ambivalent at best, outright dismissive at worse.

This went on for a good few weeks.

Until one morning a messenger turned up at my door, instructing me to attend the Palace. He didn’t say what for, just that I had been requested.

I wondered if I was going to have some kind of public reprimand for my bad behaviour.

Instead, when I arrived I was taken to meet with the Head Servant, a dour-faced woman in her sixties.

"Listen to me child, and listen well."

I practically _hissed_ when she called me child. What _is_ it with these Asgardians?!!

"Prince Loki has warned me of your unruly behaviour, and you should be very grateful that he did not send you to prison…"

Prison?!

"…for insulting the monarchy."

I could hardly call it insulting…

"However, in his graciousness he has ordered you to work as a servant here, at the Palace."

I wrinkle my nose. Don’t like the sound of that.

She carries on. “You will work with the other girls in his private quarters. There is a rota system that you shall become acquainted with, however informally you will be on call twenty-four hours a day, is that understood?”

"Do I have a choice?"

"Insolent madam!" She glares at me. Silly old hag.

"I can see I will have to keep my eye on you." She looks me up and down, with that same horrible contempt that Loki has.

"Well," she bristles. "Your employment begins immediately. I will show you to your room where you will change into your uniform."

I follow her silently through the palace corridors. My face is now as dour as hers. This is going to be great fun.

______________________________

For the first few days I didn’t see Loki, thankfully. I just got on with my work. For the most part, I was in charge of his ‘bathing suite’ - yes, Prince’s don’t have bathrooms they have mini-spas - which meant making sure there was enough hot water at any given moment, clean towels, making sure the whole suite was clean and sparkly, making sure all the bathing products were there, and generally being a cleaner.

It’s funny how I don’t mind cleaning up around animals but _hate_ cleaning up after humans.

Anyhow, the moment arrived. Loki was in the bath when I arrived for my shift, and I swapped places with the previous girl, standing outside the large doors, waiting for him to finish. I had been told what to do - wait for him to call for me, then go in and basically do whatever he tells me to, along with getting him dressed. Which would be a bit weird.

"Servant?" he lazily yelled, and I pushed the doors open.

He was standing  by the large bowl-shaped white bath in only a white towel, which covered his waist and thighs.

When our eyes met, I knew he recognised me. He tilted his head back a little so he could look down his nose at me.

He waved a pale arm out towards the towel rack about two metres near him, by the wall.

"Another towel," he ordered. Or rather, challenged me.

I huffed. “They’re just there.”

A wry smile played on his lips. He’s enjoying this, isn’t he?

He raised a cocky eyebrow. “I know.”

"Do it yourself."

"I _beg_ your pardon?!” he practically spat out at me, nostrils flaring.

"Come on, you’re a full grown man, if you can’t grab that towel a few inches from you then what does that say about you?" I arched an eyebrow and stared him down.

He chuckled darkly. It was not a good sound.

"It says that I’m too important to busy myself with trivial matters and am powerful enough to have others do it for me." He stands defiantly, arm still reaching out.

Or that you’re a mama’s boy who can’t do anything for himself.

I walk over to the towel rack, his gaze watching me, with an annoying half-smile on his face.

I take one and hold it out to him, then just as he goes to grab it I pull it away. Childish I know, but this whole scenario is utterly absurd.

"And this is why I hired you…," he murmurs, stepping forward to swipe the towel from me. I have to move so as not to touch his bare chest.

He ruffles his black hair with the towel and walks away, his back to me.

"Leave. I will call for you when I am ready."

Alright then. I walk out silently, closing the door behind me, and wait outside.

____________________

And this is how things tended to play out between us every time I was on duty when Loki was around. He’d order me to do something stupid, like get him his boots which were right next to his chair, and I’d tell him to do it himself. But his temper had cooled, and I didn’t feel like he’d give me the sack. If I was that bad, I think he would have sacked me after the towel incident.

We did have a moment though.

One night I was cleaning the suite after he had bathed, thinking he had gone to read or feast, when he entered.

"You," he addressed me, and walked over to where I knelt scrubbing at the tiled floor, his boot heels striking them loudly.

"I have a name," I retorted, and started to get up. I didn’t like being on my knees around him.

"My Insolent Servant," he said slowly, and took my chin in his fingertips, regarding me like a snake about to strike its prey. It was the first time he had touched me, and I was surprised.

"G…get off," I said with hesitation, and brought a hand up to pull his arm away, but he held it firmly still, like stone.

I was scared that he was going to hurt me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he occasionally used servants for sex, so I wouldn’t be completely surprised if that was what was on his mind. The thought had crossed my mind before, and I had dreamt of a few back-up plans on how to deal with such a situation.

Knee him in the balls.

Start singing ‘Flying Without Wings’ really badly, to confuse him, then make a run for it.

Pretend to be really up for it, and pretend to seduce him via a striptease, then whack him on the head with whatever’s near and make a run for it.

I mean they’re _good_ plans.

His eyes soften briefly as he notices my guard come up. Maybe he can smell my warrior instincts.

His hand drops from my chin, and he runs his fingers through his hair.

"Impossible girl," he mutters, then sighs. "I’m bored. You will accompany me to my father’s banquet tonight. You will not eat. You will only be there for my amusement."

My eyebrows could not have risen any higher up my forehead.

He notices.

"Or would you prefer to scrub my floor like the lowly peasant you are?"

That does it.

"I am _not_ a peasant,” I move closer to him, and in surprise he actually takes a step back. Go me!

"I am the daughter of one of Asgard’s most prominent economists and the only reason I’m stuck here in this crappy servant’s outfit cleaning your mess up is because I’m the only one brave enough to call you out on your shit."

I’d never sworn in front of him before. This would not bode well.

He simmered silently, his eyes a mixture of shock, hatred and confusion.

"You’re this big bloody bloke who demands respect, yet you don’t clean up after yourself, you can’t cook, you just stand there while people dress you because you’re too thick to put your own clothes on…," yeah, I really  did say that, oops.

"…you’re bloody rude, and yet you waltz around like you’re the dog’s bo… the cat’s whiskers."

My chest is heaving. I’ve right royally worked myself up.

Loki stoically stands silent before me, head high, chest proud, clearly having none of it. I wait for a barrage of threats. Or wait to be turned into a stone.

He leans his face down closer to mine, and simply says, “And?”

I swallow. I don’t have a coherent reply to that. The only thing I can think of is ‘well, it’s not on,’, but that’s a lame comeback.

But as I’m wondering what to say, he starts laughing. A head-thrown-back, proper laugh, like I’ve just told him a funny joke. Not a trace of anger on his face.

This isn’t good. This is a bit psychotic.

His laughter fades, and he folds his arms across his chest, looking at me.

"Thick?" his voice seems to echo in the suite, and he turns a little on the spot. I open my mouth to speak (I was going to say ‘yes’) when he says, "Rude?"

Ermmm

He turns swiftly and starts to walk towards the suite door. “Come with me,” he calls out behind him, and for some bizarre reason I follow.

______________________

Well, I got to wear a nicer dress than this potato sack servant’s gown, so that was a plus.

And even though Loki had told me not to eat or drink at the banquet, I had defiantly grabbed a goblet of wine from a passing wine-server and knocked it back. He didn’t chastise me, simply gave me a dark look.

We hadn’t said a word to each other all night. Some people had asked why Loki had chosen to bring ‘a mere servant girl’ with him, and he’d just told them that he wanted me on stand-by and that ‘one can never have too many minions’ to which everyone laughed and nodded in agreement, and I wanted to punch them all.

It was on the way back that we finally exchanged words.

We were walking through the palace corridors towards his chambers. He wanted me to help him prepare for bed, which included undressing him the big baby, but I gleefully told him “my shift officially ended an hour ago, so the next servant, Aggi, will be on hand to help you.”

His long strides momentarily slowed as he thought.

"Well as my servant you should be on my call at any time, and I shall have whichever servant I want at any time I want."

"Stop being so fussy," I grumbled. "Aggi is just as efficient and hard working as me."

"But she’s not you," he blurted out, and started walking quicker. I could barely keep up.

"I’ve had a long day and I really need to go to sleep. Please can we keep to my scheduled hours, for tonight at least?"

He carries on ahead of me, approaching his chamber doors. “If you want to go, then go,” he snaps irritably, and leaves me in the hallway.

___________________________

Now I had a thought. and I don’t know how I feel about my thought. But it’s just a thought, so it might not be true, so it’s probably nothing.

But I thought: What if Loki likes having me around?

I mean, for my actual company, not just as a servant?

And then I thought, what if he thinks my outspokenness is a good thing? He hasn’t exactly been nice to me, but he’s taken my ribbing with grace, hasn’t given me the sack, and hasn’t ever tried to silence me. He actually listens to me. And does stuff for himself when I’m around way more than he probably should (being the Prince and all).

It’s probably a boring life, that Prince lark. Lots of banquets and time to kill. Maybe I’m a bit of excitement for him?

That sounds bad, doesn’t it? ‘A bit of excitement’. Eww.

_____________________

Listen to that feminine hunch!! Listen to it!!

A few days later me and Loki crossed paths again. I’d been given the morning shift, and I’m sure he must have his own copy of the servants rota and knew I was coming because when I turned up at 8.30am to clean the bathing suite I found him loitering outside the suite door, his hands behind his back, with a wry smile on his face.

Oh god.

"My Insolent Servant," he greets me. I kind of want to vom.

"Here to tidy up, as per usual," I say, trying to focus on the door handle.

"I slept well, thank you for asking," he drawls, leaning against the door frame as he watches me.

"Good," I nod. "So did I, thanks for asking."

He laughs softly. “I’ve missed you,” I _think_ I hear him mumble.

"Don’t work too hard," he says as I shove the heavy door open, and I grimace to myself. Because he’s going to be spending his day doing god knows what, probably prancing around fields with courtesans or practicing magic with his mates, while I’m stuck here bored out of my nut…

I feel his firm hand on my shoulder and he turns me around to face him. In his other hand is a book, which he holds out to me.

I… wasn’t expecting that. “Oh.”

"It’s, um..," for a rare moment his composure is not as assured as usual. "It’s an old book of spells." He bites his lip and almost laughs to himself, before saying "Take it."

I take it from him. It’s an old brown leather-bound musty book, its pages filled with italic script and old ink drawings. It looks pretty cool, but heavy-going too, and the way Loki insists on me having it irked me.

"Only if you read Twilight," I retort, to which he looks confused.

"I take it that’s some sort of Midgardian scripture?"

I can’t help myself. I look up at his solemnly and say, “it’s what we base our moral values on.”

His face softens and I can’t help but giggle.

"I’m sorry, no, it’s just a fiction novel."

He growls. Playfully. Is that playfully? I quite like the sound of that. No. Wait. _Employer_.

"Well thanks for the book, it looks… engrossing," I place it on a nearby shelf and think about getting to work.

He stays in the doorway.

Go on, just go!

"I’ve had it since I was twelve."

My eyes bulge. Wow. Why’s he giving me such a personal item…? Oh… oh I see.

"I don’t know how I could clean it," I pick it up and take it back to him. "Most cleaning products would ruin the leather and there’s no way you could treat the pages…,"

"It’s for you," he interrupts me, and walks off.

As he does.

________________________

I mean I tried reading it, I really tried.

It was all in some weird Elvish language, or maybe Welsh, with some odd looking diagrams of horned beings and giants and other mythical beings.

I gave up. But I kept the book safe and stuck it in the front pouch of my apron. It should really be back with Loki. He’d know far better how to use it.

Later, he returned. I was polishing the large water jug he uses to wash his hair with, and he actually _knocked_ on the suite door before entering

Not so long ago he would have just flounced in and demanded his bath to be readied.

I told him to come in, and stayed sitting on my small stool, finishing my work. He entered, his eyes looking for me before finding me, and he stood still not too far from the entrance. His face looked muddied, and he had already started to undo the front of his jacket.

"Have a nice time?" I asked, looking back down at the jug.

"Could have been better," he said darkly. "How did you find your light reading?"

I laughed at that, and as I looked up I caught him smiling too.

I set the jug down, stood up and went over to him.

"I’m sorry, but, I can’t understand any of this, and it’s obviously a personal item of yours - you should really have it, not me." I was being completely honest and decent with him for once. No back-chat and no banter. See, I can behave.

I took the book out of my apron and offered it to him.

"Did I ask you to read it?" he drawls.

Well, no. I shake my head.

He keeps his hands behind his back, refraining from taking the book.

"You are right. This book is of value to me. It is the first book of magic and sorcery I ever had. It transpires that a servant is being paid to steal it from me. I know not who by." His brow furrows, and I know he is telling me the truth. He may be called the God of mischief but I don’t think he is joking about this.

"I need it to be kept safe." His eyes rise to meet mine. "I trust you."

Huh?

He starts to turn towards the open door. “Keep it safe. And I want a bath.” He stops as he walks across the doorway, turning to me. “If you would be so kind.”

I make a mocking smile at him, and he bites his lip as he walks out.

Well there we go. He trusts me. That’s nice, isn’t it. I should get a pay rise.

__________________________

After I’d prepared his bathing essentials, I left him to it and clocked off, leaving the next girl to deal with him for the rest of the evening. I momentarily wondered if any of the other servants had a bit of banter going with him, or if he treated me differently to them.

I kept the book safe. I carried it with me all the time, and kept it under my pillow when I slept. Of course, part of it was out of duty, but part of it was that I felt happy to have Loki trust me above everyone else, and I wanted to honour that trust. Even though he could be a bullish arrogant twit at the best of times, he’d entrusted me with a very personal item and I wasn’t going to be neglectful about that.

No-one tried to nick the book off me. I’m guessing (and hoping) that no-one knew I had it. And it would seem unlikely, from an outsider’s perspective: I was that errant servant who would more likely be the one to steal it.

Loki had gone for a few weeks to Midgard on an ‘expedition’ so I effectively had a bit of a holiday. I had to check on his chambers once a day, but other than that I had time on my hands. So I hung out with my family, ate a lot, made the most of wearing my own clothes (rather than my servants uniform) and had a jolly good time.

I was notified of when Loki was due to arrive, and there was a flurry of busyness as his chambers servant team made sure everything was ship-shape.

All twenty of us stood in a neat row outside his chambers to welcome him back. It was like being down on good ol’ Midgard, waiting to meet the Queen at the Royal Variety Show.

I’d forgotten how much presence he has. Even as I first spotted him descending the corridor, far up ahead, I felt an electric charge.

He marched past the first few servants, scanning their faces, and came to the Head Servant, giving her a nod. He carried on until he saw me, and paused for a moment, lowering his eyes momentarily then back up at me, before carrying on and disappeared into his chambers.

After a few quiet moments, the Head Servant dismissed us, keeping back one servant girl whose shift was about to start.

___________________

I went back to my room. I’d had his book in my apron during ‘the line up’ but of course couldn’t give it to him, so I stuck it under my pillow again.

About an hour later there was a loud knock on my door. It was the other servant girl who should be working in Loki’s chambers now.

"Sorry to bother you," she said softly, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Loki has asked for you."

"Has he now?" I replied, thinking aloud.

She shifts on her feet.

"Please, please come. He’ll be angry at me if you don’t, and I…,"

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m coming, run ahead and tell him. I just need to change. I’ll be there in ten.”

She nodded over-enthusiastically and literally _ran_ off.

Strange girl.

__________________

When I got to his chambers the same girl was standing outside. I gave her a smile and a nod, and she bustled away.

I found Loki sitting at a large wooden desk, about as big as my whole room, looking a bit agitated. His hands were clasped under his chin, and his legs bobbed under the table, making the buckles on his boots jingle.

When he saw me, his countenance relaxed, and he stood up.

"Alright?" I quipped, fishing about in my apron for that book.

"Here we are," I walked up to the table, and set the book down. "Safe and well."

"Here we are, indeed," he said softly.

"Okay then," I nodded.

Silence.

He began to walk around the table towards me.

"Thank you."

Did Loki just say ‘thank you’?!

I turn my face to watch him as he approaches.

"Thank you for being the only person I can trust here on Asgard."

I nod. “That’s okay…,”

He comes closer, resting his fingertips on the book that sits between us on the table.

"Thank you for calling me out on my bullshit, when no-one else ever does."

The intensity of his gaze makes me turn my head. I look down at his hand on the book.

"Thank you for every disobedient word you’ve ever spoken to me." His words now coming out in whispers, sending a chill through me.

I feel his fingertips brush my cheek, before moving down to cup my chin and draw my face to look at him.

"Thank you for pushing my buttons, when life is otherwise so dull."

I swallow. Please don’t kiss me.

"I missed you," he croons, and I kind of start to melt. A bit.

"Well," I muse, "I have to keep myself amused somehow, don’t I."

His fingers float down from my chin as he laughs, that same carefree head-back laugh I remember from before, and it makes me chuckle too.

He then sighs, and perches on the edge of the table.

"The Head Servant told me that they caught the devious imposter who was trying to steal this," he taps the book. "So I can indeed take it off your hands again, you will be relieved to know."

I nod, my head bouncing. “Good.”

"But I like the thought of you keeping something of mine safe," he continues.

Oh god, what now? A cauldron, maybe? His wizard’s hat?

"And whilst I was in Midgard I realised what I want to give to you, for safe-keeping." He looks down at the book next to him on the table.

Drum roll, please…

He nods to himself, then looks at me, his expression almost timid.

"My heart."

Say wha…

He stands up, his body close to mine.

"Will you be my wife?"

___________________________

I said no.

Of course I said no! He can’t come waltzing in asking for my hand in marriage when all we’ve had is a barrage of snarky comments between us. And just because I looked after his magic book, it does not mean I ‘love’ him.

At any rate, I’m a ‘servant’ (and I haven’t forgotten that he called me a ‘peasant’ once, too). No employee-employer relations. And I’m sure his parents want to marry him off to some goddess or princess, keep the royal bloodline going and all that incestuous shenanigans.

And if you’re wondering, I didn’t blurt out “Euck, no way!”.

I let him down very well.

I told him I was very flattered by his offer, and that I was a very lucky woman indeed. Yet I was unable to accept, because I was not sure if I felt the same way towards him.

Which made him go sad face :(

So I went into my ramble about ‘I’m a servant, you need a princess’, to which he sighed, and muttered that he didn’t want a princess, that he wanted me.

And it felt like we were in a stale-mate, where he determinedly wanted me, and I was beating around the bush trying to say ‘well, sorry mate, you can’t have me’, until he lolloped out of the room, mumbling “alright, then.”

So that went really well.

I didn’t see him the next day - we just didn’t cross paths during my shift. Or, he was avoiding me.

Same the next day. And I knew that the longer we didn’t speak to each other, the harder it would be when we finally did see each other.

So, being the bigger person, on the third day I decided to hang out at Loki’s bathing suite longer than my designated shift. I told the other servant girl that Loki had requested I stay on, and told her to go back to her room til he called for her.

Late evening he entered and was startled to find me perched on the edge of his bathing tub, waiting for me. I’d had to light a few candles which I know may give off the wrong romantic impression, but I couldn’t see a damn thing it was so dark.

"Hello," I said, and stood up.

He paused, and went to walk back out.

"Loki please -," I called out, and began following him. He stopped, his back to me.

"We have to talk. At least, you have to hear me out."

He sighed and I watched his shoulders sag. Yet he didn’t turn to face me.

"I know it’s a really brave thing to propose to someone, and I don’t take your offer lightly, which is why I said ‘no’. I respect you - and myself - too much to say yes to something as serious as marriage without being sure of it myself. "

I look down at my hands. “You know me. I can be as stubborn as a mule.”

I hear him chuckle slightly.

"I want to walk into marriage because I _want_ to, not because someone else wants me to. You can probably relate to that.”

He sighs, and I approach him carefully, until I’m standing behind him.

"Don’t take it as a flat ‘no’, more of a ‘not yet’," I smile. It’s true.

"Do you think you could grow to love me?" he asks despondently.

I dunno… maybe?

"You’ll have to woo me," I muse. "You’ll have to prove you’re right for me, somehow, just as I did for you."

He turns to face me, his eyes wide. For the first time I see fear in his eyes.

"Tell me how."

_________________________

It has been good to hear the rumours around the palace about this ‘new’ Loki.

I am no longer a servant. I asked Loki if I could be transferred back to the stables because it was fun, and he easily obliged. I also told him to be nicer to the servants.

After working at the stables, I would go to his chambers for the evenings. I didn’t stay the night, but used the time with him to be with him as an equal.

We’d drink wine, read, do puzzles together, and talk.

We bared secrets, and he showed me his Frost Giant form. It was all quite epic, the blue skin and red eyes, a bit like a character from a comic book, but I let him get on with it. He changed back into his usual pale form, and sat next to me by the fireplace.

"You weren’t scared?"

I scoffed.

"It’s you. It’s still you, just with the crazy eyes and the blue. Why would I be scared?"

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “You’re not of this world, are you?” he muses, and takes a sip of wine.

"No," I proudly declare. "I am Midgardian, and Midgardians do it better."

He sets his goblet down. “Do they, indeed?”

He then turns to me, his eyes heated - still green, but with an undercurrent of energy.

"Do you trust me?" he asks quietly.

I think for a minute. 1, because the wine has slightly gone to my head and I’m being a bit slow. 2, because I think about how far we’ve come and that I actually do trust him. And 3, because I am a fan of the dramatic pause.

"Yes," I exhale, and smile at him.

He grins broadly, and leans in, his face very close to mine. I can feel his warm breathe puff in waves over my face.

He trails his fingers along my cheek, titling my head, then edges in tentatively for a kiss.

Our first kiss.

I relent, letting his gentle lips move over mine, and let my hands hold onto his broad shoulders. I moan against his mouth, and he pulls away, chuckling.

"You _do_ like me, don’t you,” he smirks, although his voice is gentle, and it is not altogether a statement, a hint of a question in his intonation.

I bite my lip, rather naughtily even if I do say so myself.

He gives me this ridiculous puppy-dog expression. “Admit it?”

I bat his arm and giggle. “Yes, fine, you silly oaf! I like you! There - happy?”

He leans in and embraces me, pulling me tightly to his body.

"Thank you," he breathes, his head on my shoulder, and I squeeze him.

________________

Sometimes he’s still a jack-ass. Frequently he brings the sass out of me. And yet _somehow_ , somehow, he’s become my best friend, my confidante, and my CUDDLE MONSTER.

We haven’t progressed to anything more intimate beyond hugs and kisses yet. Loki is behaving, and I think he’s trying to establish a real relationship with me before hitting the naughty department. I respect and love him for that.

Did I say love?

Yes. And I mean it.

I will shout it from the highest hills.

I LOVE LOKI.

There.

Said it.

I just have to tell _him_.

_________________________

"Hey, you," I grin as he walks through the door, returning from one of Odin’s banquets. I was invited, but I made my excuses - I’d had a long day with the horses and wanted some ‘me’ time.

"Hey yourself," he waggles his eyebrows and strides over to where I sit, kissing me on the forehead. "Mmm, so glad to be back here with you," he murmurs against my skin.

"Well I’m glad you are here because I have an important announcement to make," I nod and gesture for him to sit with me on the large couch.

"Alright," he says warily, undoing the fasteners around his cuffs, and sits. "I’m all yours."

"Are you ready?" I raise my eyebrows as if to egg him on to say ‘yes’.

He laughs lightly. “What is it?”

"Okay," I sit up, hands folded in lap, all official-like.

"I love you."

The look of concern on Loki’s face turns to one of joy. “Wha… really?” he asks softly.

I grin. “Really really.”

He grabs my hands in his and laughs. “You love me…,” he shakes his head in disbelief, then leans in closer to me. “You love me…,” he repeats, and rests his forehead against mine.

"Yep."

"Say it again," he whispers.

"I love you, Mister Loki Sir."

He laughs again, and I notice the light reflecting on his glassy eyes.

"I love you, too," he holds my face in his palms, and kisses me as if he is drinking from me - urgently, pleading, hungrily, and needily.

When we come up for air, he starts laughing to himself again.

"Oi, it’s not funny," I smirk, trying to disguise my own laughter.

"You have been thoroughly wooed, have you not?" he says ruefully.

I roll my eyes cheekily. “I suppose I will concede that you are right on this occasion.”

He takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Will you marry me, then?" he asks, quietly.

The corners of my mouth twitch into a smile, but I try to keep a poker face as I play him. “No.”

His eyes narrow and his jaw sets. “You will marry me,” he growls, and I giggle as he starts to crawl over me.

"Never!" I yelp as he begins to tickle me. "I’ll never marry you!"

He nips my shoulder and I squeal.

"You’re too tall! And you wear too much leather!"

He pins me down onto the couch with his weight, and my chest pushes against his as I laugh.

"Insolent servant!" he accuses in an authoritative tone, then winks at me.

I look him square in the eyes. “Always. So just watch it, you,” I whisper as he leans down to kiss me again.

His lips hover just above mine, so tantalisingly close. I try to raise my head so I can kiss him, but he pulls back a little.

"No kisses til you say yes," he growls, his eyes playful.

"Humph," I relax my head back down on the couch, and close my eyes.

I hear him shift above me.

"I can wait a long time." I murmur.

"Really?," his warm breath whispers at my ear.

Oh dear god.

I feel his fingers interlink with mine as our hands rest either side of my head. He presses down slightly, affirming his dominance over me.

My eyes dart open and I see his face move to gaze down at me, his expression sweet, while his body continues to press firmly on mine.

He peppers my forehead, nose, cheeks with tiny kisses, and whispers “give up.”

And I do.

I stop being insolent and difficult, and I say yes.


End file.
